Fate or Circumstance
by TheMarginalthinker
Summary: Vlad had always been at odds with the belief that Fate controlled everything, or destiny had anything to do with the course of one's life. What power in the universe had that absolute power as to write out the entire existence of a person, to decide what they did or who they met at any given moment, or that things were just, 'meant to happen'
1. January- Happy(?) New Years

Of all the time perisods the silver hiared vampire had lived through; victorian, Edwardian, when he'd been in England, the roaring twenties, hell, even of the many War years, this era was perhaps the most hated one.

To noisy, to noesy, to interconnected. Far to many distractions and not nearly enough of the common "Good Person" any more. ( not that Vlad cared particularly for that kind of person anyway, but it would have been nice to know there was still some sense of general goodness in people.) Crimes were still commited-as usual he supposed-, but all the reports, to him anyway, just seemed like they were all so much more _violent_. More and more countries threatening to destroy each other in total war, and polititians who would no doubt be better suited behind the desk of a major corporation then running (or ruining) the lives of millions. No, for Vladimir Masters the Third, the 2000's were not looking to be a good one hundred years to have to suffer through.

The old fang made his way down the near-empty streets of Chicago in the surpirisingly frigid weather of January of the New Year, glancing up every now and again to make sure there was no one about. Not that he minded people, persay, but more often then not found that the less people outside to hear anyone scream the less his nearves were on end. Vlad never did enjoy that feeling, of the hairs on the back of one's neck rise with the sensation of being watched when one was commiting an act that to any human would be considered quite hanious, though he knew some vamps who actually enjoyed it. What was the phrase these people had taken to calling the feeling, be they young vampire or human? Yolo, or some such nonsense. The vampire snorted out loud at the thought, pulling his navy and red striped scarf away from his mouth and nose and tucking it under his chin to better scent the air. You only live once, huh? A vampire should know better, he himself not being even one of the oldest out there, and still living more lives then any human could dream of. Yolo indeed...

Blinking and coming seamlessly out of his thoughts as he came to a (thankfully) dead intersection, Vlad crossed without waiting for the lights or the walk signal. No one was about to see him, and the cameras placed semi-descreetly upon the street signs wouldn't capture anything but the cold air of the winter night. Seems humans were right on a few acounts with the traditional vampire mythology.

Humph. Vlad burrowed further into the fluffy inside of the heavy flannel winter coat when a smooth wind picked up, flowing like a hypothermic river down the wind tunnle of the empty road. Too bad other myths about vampires didn't have the decency to be true. What he wouldn't give to be able to disregard the cold...but, Vlad supposed that even if he could, he wouldn't be able to show it in public, not if he didn't want to raise susspicians. A person without a coat on walking around in the middle of the night in January would at the very best raise eyebrows. At the worst...well...lets just say, if someone walks up to you raving about the many uses of stakes pure iron, they aren't always crazy. He'd lost some of his few friends to...

Vlad shook his head. It didn't matter now, he supposed. What happened happened, and there was no two ways about it.

Besides, this dead-of-winter night was a beautiful crystal clear; chancing a glance up, he could even make out a few of the brighter stars shining doggedly down through the city glare, a rarity when one lived in downtown Chicago and the light polution interfeared most nights. It was a nice night. Another good thing about winter Vlad found he actually liked was that between the snow and cold air, the normally heavy and lingering scents and sounds of the city bacame muted somewhat, bringing smaller smells and tidbits of noise one didn't notice into a sharper focus. Like the smell of evergreens in the park about ten blocks away, or the car coming down the road from behind him that, judging by the sound, would pass within a minute or two. Or the salty-sweet irony scent of fresh blood on icey pavement acompanied by rangey shouts and lewd cat-calls-

Vlad stiffened. Back straight, hands clenching up from laying limp head snapping around to his left, eyeing the other side of the street. Yes, with parties, especially the ones welcoming in the new year, all mannor of scents were forthcoming. Alcohol and sweat and all kinds of heart-stopping junk food, but not that smell...never that tangy meaty smell...The shouting grew louder, and oh, the insults. He knew many people, human teenagers especially, loved their course language, but never had it been spewed so abundantly infront of him. And at someone, as well it apeared.

Stepping a bit back on instict so that he was more or less hidden in the shadows with the help of his black coat, Vlad observed the screaming party as they all came into the neon orange light of one of the few streetlights.

Upon retrospect, Vlad would never be able to say why exactly had had stopped that night. Normaly he'd just look away and continue walking; it wasn't his business to evesdrop nor like him to do so anyway, but this night he did. And wondered if he had right to regret it.

There looked to be six figures or so, an even number or males and femals alike, if the phermones forgging the crisp air told true. Vlad wrinkled his nose as it assaulted his olfactory sense. They were intoxicated, every one of them-not that he was surprised. At least they looked to be twenty years of age or so, therefore they could _ possibly_ be drinking legally. But, most of this information was filed away somewhere else in Vlad's mind, a footnote in the whole chapter dedicated to this situation.

For although there were six teens, there apeared to be one among them who was the lone wolf; the outcast in the pack, being mocked visiously.

Of the remaining five humans, it seemed to Vlad the ringleader doing most of the jeering was a large boy, blond with washed out powder-blue eyes. He would have been quite handsom, had he not been shouting such curses and stinking of whisky and cheap beer. To his either side of him, paractically hanging off his arms at that, were two equally pretty girls; one of a definite nordic decent, with ashy-blond hair and light eyes-slightly built,- and one of a healthy Latina heritage with olive skin and flowing silky black locks. Just behind the two of them stood a smirking male; just about as tall as the other, but apearing to have less bulk; built lighter. In the back of his mind, Vlad was reminded, a small amout of the paintings of anchient samuria weilding katanas he'd seen in musems. However, like the blond boy, his ethnic charm, what little he may or may not have had, was smothered by the sneer the slid across his face, and that was were the trouble started.

The fifth figure, -the one the ractious group were taunting so mercilessly- had been, by this point shoved down by the blond one, landing with a wet squelch in a puddle of melted snow on the side of the road , most definitaly soaking him to the bone. The actions of these youthes made the vampire scowl, but he slunk a bit further back in the dark. If he showed himself, they might react badly. They were already drunk off their heads...

Blinking as the figure groaned and attempted to get up, Vlad saw for the first time the face of the tormented. A boy, or...so Vlad thought...It was honestly hard to say in the harsh false-light of the lamp, much to Vlad's embarassment. Well, even if they were not, they looked mostly male, so Vlad would reffer to him as such until evidence came into play that he was not.

The boy was so...small. It was the only word that seemed to fit. Well, perhaps not; shorter but thin would be better words. Good gracious, was this child any older then sixteen? He must have been; why else would he be consorting with this randy croud? Accenting the slightness of the boy was the mop of dark hair on his head; the kind that would no doubt always be unkempt and unruly no matter what brush or comb one used, but now it was just plain ragged and messy, not to mention half soaked with the filthy slush from the road. Vlad didn't get a good look at the youth's face; it had been either turned away from him or hidden under the inky feathers of hair.

Settling back into his own mind for a moment, Vlad let the portrait of the boy paint itself on his mind's canvas in full. Pushing aside the bullies and harsh treatment, the person strugling to stay balanced on his own unsteady two legs and now yeling back more swears at the group in the middle of the wet road before him was...cute. From an objective point of veiw that is to say, Vlad thought quickly. From the little Vlad could make of him, it was in a very boy-next-door sort of way that most girls would find "adorable' and the "we are the perfect couple" type. Adding the voice of the younger male to his painting, the old fang felt an involentary smile sort of sneak without his consent over his face. Although it was hoarse, and a bit slurred with intoxication, the voice was quite pretty, one had to admit. Perhaps it WAS a female; the pitch was high enough to be an alto singer, but in any case, Vlad found himself pausing to admire how even impared the voice flowed easily, like cystal water over weathered river stones. Light, but with undertones of warning, showing without even needing words that this person would make a loyal to the death friend, or a hunt you to the ends of the earth enemy. Such conviction and emotion potrayed with so little...

Vladimir shook his head then. Not that Vlad would ever act on such fancies, the old hopless romantic reminded himself. It wasn't that he was bigotted against homosexuals-hells bells, even HE had bedded a male or two in his long life. ( when one lived as long as vampires do, one found one's veiws on social and moral boundaries against such things like sexuality blurring over time.) No, just not with a human. Never with a human. He would only end up hurting the both of them in the end. After all, humans tended to come with expiration dates...

A scream filled the air, short and for Vlad, far to loud, jerking him out of his thoughts quite efficiently. It was not a female's wailing though, but the sort of scream a dying horse would make. Gutteral and thick. Male.

It apeared the tall blond boy had been insulted by something the shorter black hair had shouted at him (Vlad hadn't really been listening; the conversations of mortals rarely interested him anymore, save if he had anything to gain from it.) and was coming to collect his revenge. The smaller boy, seeing the charging bull of the other coming towards him, must have recognized his words as foolishness and tried to retreat by stepping back, but slipped on the slick cold surface of the street falling onto his back rather vioently. Vlad watched as blondy just grabbed the other's coat front, hauled up the smaller form of his opponent- if one could call the fragile stick-figure of the raven hair that- and swung back in to a frightening right hook.

The fist connected with the face it was aimed at with a sickening smack. Before Vlad could even contemplate the what was happening right in front of him, a second hit was laded, then a third. The limp body of the smaller person dropped to the pavement in a heap when the blond let go, an amused sneer on his face.

Suddenly, Vlad felt...wrong. Just wrong. He shouldn't be here, the old fang thought to himself. He should move on or...or call the police or something. There were sure to be enough of them out, it was only three thirty in the morning on new years, but he didn't move. Something stopped him from reaching into his pocket and taking out the small silver cell he kept on him, or running accross the way to deal with the problem himself; he was more then sure these people were nothing more then bullies, and bullies are all cowards anyway. It was like someone had put cement shoes on him, or a great hand had reached down from heaven and held him captive in its grip. All he could make himself do was watch from his shadowed corner as the horrible events played out.

Vlad honestly expected the worst. He expected the taller one to beat the other into a bloody pulp on the pavement, but it seemed that after a few more hard kicks to the black haired boy he grew bored, and called to his friends to move on as the smaller boy had 'learned his lesson,' or some such nonsense. Truth be told, Vlad was more then a little releived. Now he could make sure the individual was alright, go home, and have a hot cup of A positive, while he was at it. The spilled blood scent all around him from the unmoving figure on the ground wasn't helping him with his ah, 'condition'. It was of course then, and only then, that Vlad rembered the boy was still lying in the _middle of the road_. Quikly glancing about to see if the attackers really were gone, Vlad snapped out of whatever stillness had come over him and slowely started towards the male.

Vlad had always been at odds with the beleif that Fate controlled everything, or destiny had anything to do with the course of one's life. What power in the universe had that absolute power as to write out the entire existance of a person, to deside what they did or who they met at any given moment, or that things were just, 'meant to happen?' No, Vladimir Masters solidly beleived that what happened in life was happenstance, chance, or consiquenses to the actions put forward by people. No great big 'greater scheme' laid out by a force a human couldn't possibly understand the magnitude of. It was just life.

After that bitterly cold morning in early January, Vlad would never be able to make the argument against Fate quite so assuredly.

He honestly didn't see it coming. He didn't. Then again, the silver haired vampire would think in the future, no one ever does.

The car came seemingly without a warning. Vlad...he wasn't sure when the black s.u.v. (or course) had goten so near-it had been a mile away, surely- but HE cirtainly wasn't paying enough attention to gather his thoughts enough to shout to the boy lying in the snow, nor to get his legs to move fast enough in enough time to dart forward and drag the boy away. He was a bystander. It was an incident. There was one thing that twisted his gut, though; the child had accually begun to move. Started to stir in place on the wet ground and would have probobly managed to get up with Vlad intened assistance, had whatever decided to send a car his way not interfeared.

Not ten feet. Vlad was taking perhaps his third step to help when headlights, two beams of glowing death come racing down the way. What little human instinct there was within the old vampire must have been mighty sick to want the silver haired gentleman to freeze up then, just ten meger feet away. God in heaven, why couldn't he and his kind have been blessed with the myth of super speed? A moment was all it took. A shivering and far more sober then previously noted boy ( the same space in the back of Vlad's mind that remained anilytical took in the slightly too- square-jaw-line- to-be-female and confirmed him a boy) had gotten unsteadily to his knees, a black eye already swelling and a busted lip trickling red when, to him, what must have seemed the light greeting the deceased desended upon him with enough force to smash right though a solid brick wall. More then enough to hit the frail body of a human being with a few dull _cracks_, and push the life of the boy into that same light.

Vlad stood. Just...just stood there, with a sort of..sickly...comical expresion on his face. His eyes were wide; staring, but seeing naught but the broken figure smashed into the earth before him. His mouth had drawn itself up into the _oohhh..._ sort of position, lips making a circle.

He was never sure when he had moved, Vlad, but it seemed like a blink, and he was there; kneeling beside the body, cradeling the bloody black haired head in his hands. It was so light the head of this boy. Vlad looked about it, scrutenized it trying to see if the dammage wasn't- if he could be saved or-...No. It couldn't be. The boy...he was still breathing! THe mouth of the boy was twitching open and closed, a bit like a fish, but he was drawing breaths! Vlad felt...inexplicably happy, for whatever reason. Probobly the natural reaction from seeing a traumatic event play out infront of him and then receiving such opposite news in the form of a rising an falling chest. He would live! Vlad would call the E. and the boy would be taken to a hospitol and recover and- the boy's head flopped to the right then, and Vlad felt his moment of pleasure gone, like the cold wind of the night had ripped it far to suddenly from his undying body; the temperature of the slush seeping into his black, too-nice-to-really-be-jeans was nothing in comparison to the absolute dead-cold the wound on the side of the boy's head left him with.

The left side of the child's head was...in a word, _caved. _ Thankfuly, all Vlad could really see was broken tissue and skin, some white bo-_don't think! _ and plenty of blood; from the few seconds he had been holding the child his hands had already become slick with it. The red liquid, so much a part of his daily life for the past three centuries, now sickened him. _ It wasn't the boy's time. Not his time. _ Vlad found himself repeating the phrase over and over inside his head, like the silly mantra would do anything to change how absolute the reality was. Even when the driver, a boy or a girl-Vlad didn't know or care either way- came over and started screaming and crying at what they had just done, Vlad was still holding the dying stranger. The beautiful, blood drenched human.

Humans, Vlad found himself musing sardonicly, looking into the red-snow spattered face of the youth he did not know from Adam, yet felt strangly more attatched to then any of his past relations, good or bad. So soft, so fragile...humans break so easily. Vampires, well, they weren't made of solid steele but, it would certainly take a bit more then a car to-

An idea flashed through the silver haired vamp's mind then. A hidious, wonderful, terrifying idea streaked like silent lightning through the head of one Vladimir Masters the Third, making him both almost physicaly recoil in digust that his damned mind would even think of something so awful, and at the same time brought forth a macabre little voice who whispered of a proverbial eternity without lonesomeness. A porceline partner who wouldn't shatter when dropped...

Vlad's face gave away none of the abject revulsion at the very thought with practiced ease, but perhaps what turned his insides worse, was the fact that somewhere in his head, he was _accually considering it._

Vlad...was never quite certain what he thought of the vampire race. Yes, he was one, so naturaly, he supported his own kind, but from a personal perspective it was much harder to say. Make no mistake, he had realized long ago a vampire's life (at least when young) was more often then anyone would wish, a struggle with one's self identity- most of the time taking place over the first thirty to fifty years as a new species. The massive change in one's life in such a fachion left psycological scars that never truely faded; they were more or less just glossed over in order to concentrate on the now. So, when Vlad was at odds with the concept of turning this boy- this random stranger he'd never known or seen before- into one of Night's children, he really _was_ having an internal screaming match with himself.

On the one hand- _ He is a child! Can't be ANY older then twenty, really. What right do I have to decide this boy's future; and what a furture it will be for him! Why, he'll be downright horrified of not only me but himself! I couldn't do that. No. Even my own turning had been willing. _ Yet, on the complete opposite hand-the one, much to Vlad's growing fearfulness, which was getting much stronger -_ But what life will he have ahead of him if you allow him to STAY like this? If-note, IF- he survives the next five minutes for the paramedics to get here let alone last the night, what could the only outcomes be? Either death of a coma, a seizure, blood loss and organ failure later on, or perhaps you wish to see him staring off into nothing and drooling, eh? A vegitable yes, but a HUMAN vegitable. _

The old one ground his teeth in utter frustration at not only the warring sides of himself but at the situation in general.

_I didn't ask for this. I never wanted-_

His inner voice was cut off sudenly by a harsh convulsion from the body beneath him, the boy shuddering and gasping like a fish out of water. Vlad found himself grasping the child tighter, catching himself before he embarresed himself by wispering soft words of comfort to the dying person. It struck Vlad then-all sides of himself- that he needed to make the desion. Now. He had no more time to _ think,_ only to _act._ Oh glory, he had lived nearly three and a half HUNDRED years, and _now_ was when he had no time? It wasn't just about Vlad anymore, and what _he_ wanted_,_ it was about this boy and what Vlad was going to do for _ him._

Nobody wants to die. Not like this. Even if the stranger had no cognitive recognition of what was going on around him- what had happened to him, Vlad at least, didn't want this boy to leave the earthly plane of existance like a peice of raveged raodkill, carelessly tossed aside. There was- it- there was just to much to this person; Vlad could tell. So much more yet to be achieved though this mind and body, and Vlad would be a fool to not recognize that- to halt such progression before it had even had a chance to move forward.

Would he remember this bloody night, the boy? Probobly not. Turnings were highly disorienting when the person wasn't dying; add to that the fact the boy had been harassed, beaten and subsiquently hit by a car, there was a good chance the boy would loose two, possibly three days worth of time. He would also need someone there to...to explain and be there for him when he inevitably broke down...or blew up; it depended on his disposition, honestly. The old vampire was certainly not looking forward to it, at all. He recalled the first few nights he had spent indoors with his Sire and couldn't stop the grimance from gracing his features. He and his Sire had...never really hit it off so to say. They were just different kinds of people. Sure, they tolerated one another for the required year they had been with the other, but to say there had ever been a time Vlad had enjoyed the presence of the elder would be a dirty lie. Vlad...hoped it wouldn't have to be like that between he and the boy. It was true, Vlad was somewhat lonesome, and he had found himself somehow infatuated with the spitfire stranger; the hazy blue eyes, the spindly twitching body, the ever-shallower breaths. To see such a life wasted would be cruel, but to sit and do nothing as the light drained from those feirce icey blue eyes...

Vlad pushed such depressing thoughts aside for now. He knew now what must be done, and for better of for worse, there would at least be one life spared tonight.

It had to be descrete. No witnesses, and no one to hold evidence. Estimating the aproximate time he had left before it would be useless, Vlad gave himself about a minute; sixty seconds to acomplish his self-appointed quest for morality.

Abandoning his blood and water soaked coat, the vamp folded it as to provide a better pillow, and as gently as he could, laid the head of the boy he had previously been clutching onto the soft, albeigt wet surface. Rising with more-then-human grace, he trotted over to the disdraught driver leaning against the side of the black vehichle, sobbing into the back of a gloved hand.

Now that he was up close and paying attention, Vlad could amke out the features of the person responsible for the soon-to-be untimely demise of the boy still lying in the street.

She was very pretty, even with the dark smeared lines of hastely whiped-at mascara dribbling down her cheecks with the tears practicaly pouring out her voilet-contac covered eyes, and sniffling into the same glove. Her black died hair-much the same color of the boy's, but with that duller, come-from-a-bottle-sheen-was in utter disaray with some clumps mussed into semi-dreadlocks. There was faint line of purple-blue, sjut above her right eyebrow, where a nasty bruise was begining to raise it's ugly head, but all this information was categorized and filed away like a machine; Vlad's mind not even giving pause to consider it at length, as it had the boy. There was no time to waste on such trivial bits of information. He only had fifty-three seconds left.

"Young lady!" She jumped at the voice so close to her; even Vlad inwardly winced at the tone of his rather abrupt bark, but made not outward show of it as he continued.

"Have you a cellulare phone with you?"

She shuffled while frantically nodding a yes, apearing to not quite be ready for words.

"Good. Have you notified the paramedics yet?"

She seemed to find her voice this time, even if it was still squeacky and sounding more like chocking sounds then words, but Vlad managed to understand:

"Y-ye-hic-yers-suh-sur-sir. I di-hur-did." through all the crying and gulps of air. Unable to stop the glance over the man's shoulder at the grisly scene beyond it, Vlad accually felt himself feeling sorry for the girl when she imidiatly tore her gaze away again and started really sobbing, clutching her hair-buriying her face into her arms, muttering about jail and other such things. It didn't bother Vlad. In reality, it helped his situation. The more she was out of it, the less she would notice. _Fourty-five seconds left, Vladimir. Best make this little exchange quick. _ Vlad gave a small involentary nod to himself. Reaching out to grasp the arm of the young lady, he took on an air of adult authority and consolation. He needed her to listen.

"That's good. But right now my dear, you're not doing anyone any good standing out here in the cold. For this very moment, the best you can do is go back in your car and keep yourself warm." He gave an incouraging little smile "Also, if you wouldn't mind, I would greatly aprechiate it if you would keep a lookout for the ambulances; they should come from that direction." Vlad made a vauge gesture down the road-facing the opposite of where Vlad would...well. Anything to keep wandering eyes from looking back and seeing that which no one outside of the two participants should ever be privy to. He made his voice solem then, trying to convey the true gravity to the lady. "I shall return to...him, and uh...see if I can staunch the bleeding any, and if need be, just...make sure he's not alone."

In a sort of trance-like state, staring and muttering, the girl climbed back into her car, eyes feverishly locked onto one point somewhere down the long road ahead of them, probobly looking out for the E.M.T.s. Vlad took a long breath, preparing fo the next thirty-nine seconds, a scowl working its way onto his face.

One last time, he looked at the boy and the notion of whether or not this was the right thing to do graced his suddenly weary mind. In all reality, it wasn't just the boy's life he'd be changing tonight, no. There were the agreived family and friends to acount for, the invariably nasty business of fooling the undertakers and hospitol people within the next few days, and the simple (if only) task of getting the boy registered within the Vampire community as a legitimate Dependant and Vlad as a legitimate Sire. Ugh, Vlad DID _so hate_ all the blasted paper work involved. He wondered idaly when exactly vampire society had become so beuracratic? It mattered not. All that would be seen to soon enough. He still had the accual turning to attend to. This time, the grimance marring his features as he made himself move towards the unmoving figure was one of near-pure self hate. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to just not do it, yet at the same time was congradulating him on making the right desision and saving a life.

_I'm not a hero-none of my kind is. We don't save people, we condemn them._

A quiet cough, far louder then a gun shot in Vlad's ears, rung through the relitive peace and quiet. Now, he had to act _now._ Kneeling beside the boy, Vlad alowed his mind to drif, go blank, wander without destination. His body knew what to do without his mind's interfearence, so he let it.

Time passed, unnoticed. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours since Vlad started his grim task; the old fang didn't know. All he was aware of was the sweetness on his tounge, and the body growing colder and imobile under him.

Lucky for Vlad, the boy finaly lay still as the red and white lights and wailing sirens of the ambualnces reached the peak of the hill behind him.

Somewhere in his mind, an errant thought ran past, shouting something he barely caught, but left him feelig quite meditative all the same;

_This century might not be a good one, but if anything, it WILL be interesting..._


	2. Chapter 2

**I cant really say sorry enough times to convey my feelings at this point, so...here's an update that isn't so much a chapter, more like a segway into the rest of the story.. Rest assured, the other stories are being worked on. The one that'll most likely update the soonest is Caged Animals, I just needed to finish this chapter cause it was burning a hole in my drive.  
**

**Thank you for remaining patient with me, I'll see you in the next update! **

He hated hospitals. Truly.

Everything, from the smell to the awful decor just made the dapper vampire gentleman go "No." in a most impolite fashion very unlike himself. It wasn't that he was against the _principle_ of the medical facilities-strudels, he invested and gave amounts to charity for the things to be built and run- it was merely the fact that he himself would rather _not_ be in one of the florescent-drenched buildings.

This was for many reasons, both personal and non, (Though admittedly, mostly personal anymore.) not the least of which had involved his, ah, specific dietary habits for the past three hundred years or so. Oh yes, as with any of his night-life kin, the entire complex could with ease be compared with what a human went through walking past a scented candle shop or coffee bar in the morning. Though subtle here, nearly buried under layer upon layer of disinfectant, cloying air-fresheners and the general oder of sickness, that same salt-and-iron scent Vlad had become so well acquainted with wafted almost mockingly about, tickling the senses of the old fang and putting them just that more on edge.

It was not the fact that the smell drove him quite to distraction whilst in one of these places, it was the fact that _tonight_, it _didn't._

After all, he'd already had his meal.

Sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose (it was beginning to ache a bit from the overuse of the action over the last few hours,) the old vampire merely shook his head, determined not to think about _it _and the reason the scent left no impression upon him_; _not just yet. He still had time, and that time was going to be used for calming his ceaseless thoughts on the matter before actually having to confront the consequences of his actions. Refusing to sigh again as the exact thoughts he was trying to steer clear of resurfaced with a vengeance and utterly disobeyed any order to evacuate his head, Vlad continued to pace slowly in the waiting room just outside of the Emergency medical bay. The line of which the vampire walked was along a clear section of wall (clear being it was not lined with the unnecessarily uncomfortable plastic chairs that creaked if an eight year old sat on them) that was mostly made of plain glass windows, giving Vlad a full view of the icy downtown streets just now beginning to fill up with the few early-morning commuters who had the misfortune of having to work the day after New Years. Pausing for a moment to flip open the silver cellular phone in his right hand, he _hmm_ed lowly, noting it was now nearly four-thirty in the morning; nearly an hour and a half after the Incident, some detached part of his mind supplied.

Resuming the unhurried gait, Vlad let himself relax, however much he could given the situation unfolding about him, contenting his ears with the steady _tip tip tip _his lined-leather boots made on the industrial tiled floor. Yet another thing he'd have to put up with for a time, now. Waiting. With all places that involved heavy amounts of back-checking and filing and near-literal mountains of paperwork, it was an endless hurry-up-and-wait situation. Bah... Vlad just hoped he wouldn't have to wait to long. Morning, or just day-light hours in general were not what one would consider pleasant for he and his ilk. Now, don't get the wrong impression, burning up in the sunlight, thankfully, was _not_ something many vampires were prone to doing. (Though Vlad _had_ known of a few special cases in his time, but those were few and far between.) He did wonder some nights though just what attlebrain had come up with such a ridiculous theory, even if it helped lead humans off the scent...

Vlad was broken out of his admittedly drifting thoughts by new sounds weaseling into his ears. Turing away from his pacing, the vampire moved away from the windows and towards the double doors behind the reception desk-the doors that lead to the surgery bay and...the hospital morgue. It appeared a conversation was being held just beyond them, and a rather involved one, too.

"-eally gruesome, this one, I tell yah. Man, why do we have to deal with all this shit, and in the middle of the night."

"Well, someone has to be here, ready for this kind of thing. It _is..._well, _was _New Years after all. Things happen..."

Two men, by the sounds of the voices. One younger, one older, the younger one having answered the elder's complaints. A small frown tugged at the old fang's lips. Shouldn't a doctor have more...sensitivity towards whatever or whoever he may be dealing with? Granted, working in an environment where illness was normal and death was, unfortunately, commonplace couldn't be that easy, but still, a little more tact with co-workers would no doubt be appreciated. Not that any of the doctors Vlad had ever been to in his short time as a human had even a notion as to what 'bedside manor' was.( none had, back then.) He did really know what he expected, though. People were people, no matter what profession.

The two in the adjacent hallway jabbered on some more about how it was unfortunate they had to be the ones working on the eve of the new year, and more inane, unrelated-to-hospital things. After listening for but a few moments, Vlad decided he'd heard enough, and was ready to go back to waiting in peace. Didn't really know what exactly he'd been expecting to hear, anyway. It wasn't like the whole bloody place would be in an uproar about what had happened to Vlad's um...newest life development, nor did he really think some random person would just up and start, oh who knows, discussing the latest in vampire politics right in human public. Perhaps he'd simply been looking for a distraction from everything...

Slipping away from the doors, (the bored looking receptionist was starting to raise her eyebrow at him) and back into the white-washed waiting room, the vampire elder forced himself to sit, and be silent. Not much else _to_ do.

After a number of minutes far to extensive to care to count, the clicking of heels caught Vlad's attention, as any such (relatively) loud sound would given the quiet, as did the sudden blast of cold air from outdoors as someone walked into the building. Glancing up, he found the lady behind the desk speaking rather lowly to another who had joined her.

Vlad gaped at the sight of the new woman. No. It couldn't be...

With a gasp at something the new woman had apparently said, the previous receptionist had started to gather her things, in a very willy-nilly almost distressed fashion. Some neatly stacked piles of papers went askew, some even falling over all about the desk, but the receptionist took no notice, only content with grabbing her coat, her bag, and a few large three-ring binders, no doubt filled with patient information and such. Vlad watched the scramble in silence; no emotion played on his face to express what the old fang was actually holding at bay, save for a minute thinning of his lips; a narrowing of his eyes. The lady who'd started all of this appeared calm, unfazed. Even distantly amused, when in her new rush to get to the door, the desk-worker tripped and dropped half her arm-load of items. Doors swung open, allowing the poor conditions of the outside world make themselves known once again. Doors slowly, hydraulically closed with only a barely audible _woosh_ of air as they did.

A moment passed, then two as the twin creatures stared each other down, in a game as primal and controlling as the Thirst itself; an unspoken challenge as to who would break first in this yet-unclaimed territory. Who's boundaries to mind... Cherry red lips quirked, causing tarnished-silver brows to do the same.

"You're looking well, Vladimir."

That voice...sweet and rich as melted dark chocolate, but still carrying that bitter under-flavor many forgot existed until it was to late.

"Penelope." The gentleman nodded once, politely. Nothing more needed to be said. Nothing more _should_ be said, around this one...

An uncontrolled, wicked grin spread itself over the lady's face hiding nothing of what lay behind it. Well, Vlad mused, gliding slowly over to to abandoned desk and the...unexpected visitor, Penelope Sprectra was nothing, if not honest in every sense of the word.

"Someone's been a naughty boy tonight, haven't they?"

The elder gentleman forced the want to grimace away, and schooled his features once more into an uncaring facade.

"Being naughty would imply the guilty party had taken part in an action previously known to be wrong, or against the rules. One can't really say I've done anything particularly wrong, here."

The red-clothed woman merely smirked, shrugging her shoulders slightly, before redirecting her attentions towards what she clutched in her hands; Vlad did the same, the moment eye-contact was broken. Leafing through the stacks upon stacks of files she carried with her, Penelope Spectra 'ah-ha' ed triumphantly, pulling one in particular out.

Vlad was a bit thrown at first...Not that the sight of a plain manila folder was anything too confusing or difficult to understand-all vampires registered as a Dependent or Sire at one time (meaning all vampires period, once the vamp-legal system was in place) had them. Bank account codes, credit card applications (and cancellations) mortgage and rent records, drivers licenses and permits, traffic violations-hell's bells, even at times, grocery receipts- all kept in files, just like the one Spectra was clutching in her blood-red manicured-to-perfection claws.

A soured look flashed across Vlad's face before he could stop it, the sight of the file turning his stomach a little with the pure implications. It was a moment before he allowed himself to reach of out and take the folder from those grasping she-devil's hands.

This file was new. Still smelling faintly of paper-acid and cardboard, Vlad surmised it was one of the first from a fresh package-_bah! He was distracting himself from the real issue yet again..._ The manila folder was thin-looking to be carrying fewer then four of five documents at the most, if any at all-and...was that a paperclip? Curiosity peaked at the odd attachment, Vlad glanced once over to the still smirking woman who'd taken to leaning (was it him, or was it in a seemingly provocative way?) against the desk, watching him. Well...he was going to end up reading this sometime or another he supposed...might as well be now.

Daniel James Fenton.

So. The mystery boy had a name, or so the freshly printed out birth certificate copy stated. Not a bad fit, either, Daniel. Short, and both commonplace and timeless enough that it would last the ages. Yes…calling up the picture of smooth crow-black hair and sunny-day-in-winter eyes, Vlad could easily call this person Daniel.

He largely ignored the rest of the mostly useless documents. Drivers licence, highscool (and college) grades. The only one he found himself even remotely interested in was the simple snap-shot photograph that looked to be a school photo or something, if the poor quality was anything to go by.

It suddenly occurred to him, gazing once more into those gem-like lapis eyes...this was his ward. This boy this...this 'Daniel James Fenton' person was no longer an intriguing stranger on the side of the road, just another face lost in the sea of his vast memory.

Daniel would be staying with him now. For..a year, at minimum as required by vamypyric law. Vlad would be responsible for teaching and showing and explaining...

everything.

His mouth was suddenly very dry, and the liquid so ill-gotten seemed to sit heavier in his stomach at the realization of what troubles the following weeks alone would bring. The boy - ah..Daniel...would need caring. He barely remembered his own first few days, but he knew his body had been weak, and not just from the illness. It had been hard to move, to even think properly. The sudden disconnect between mind and body didn't last long, but it _was_ greatly disorienting. Vlad thought of the boy, how they'd...never even met.

The old creature's eyes darkened, much to the unnoticed pleasure of his counter sitting across from him. The boy had been _run over_ for Christ's sake. Daniel hadn't seen Vlad coming towards him when the car hit him - even if he had, after sustaining such grievous injuries there was no possible way the boy would even remember most of that entire night, let alone one little snippet of time like that.

Vlad sighed, letting the long flow of air whistle between his teeth, releasing some, though not nearly enough of the pent up tension go, his form drooping subtly.

_Well..this _is_ what we sighed up for, isn't it, Vladimir? You knew full well what would happen when you allowed yourself to Curse him in the name of our kind, yes? _

_He might hate me for it..._

_Yes, he may very well just. However, should he find you an unsuitable Sire, he can apply to have someone else take him in. Someone better suited for actually sharing their lives with others, actually giving a damn about another person- _

Vlad snapped the folder closed ( though the affect desired was somewhat lessened, being the folder itself was paper) and turned to glare at the she-creature still posed on the desk, lips quirked as if she'd been listening in to his mental debate. A sort of energy hung in the air, a if a decision had been made, some compromise had been agreed to. Spectra mused what might have possibly drawn up the sudden clarity in those dull slate eyes she'd known for years...a spark lighting their depths, oh so small, yet existing all the same. If she hadn't known him any better, she'd say it was anger. Or perhaps...determination...

Nothing was said as her clawed hands took back the information from him. She was thinking...never good. Rosy lips drew back, revealing ivory spears in what many an ignorant man would (and had) assume to be a smile.

"I assume you want to see him now?"

Indecision struck him momentarily paralyzed.

Of...course, he wanted to see the bo-Daniel...but...would it be right? It had, after all, only been four, perhaps five hours now. So little time for his 'gift' to actually do it's job. Surely his new charge's wounds wouldn't have even finished knitting themselves back together, never mind be well enough to be conscious. There wouldn't be much of a point to 'just check' on him either. The vampyric doctors stationed within the hospital knew their jobs, and would treat Daniel as he needed to be, until the time when he could be removed, and relocated into Vlad's custody. _Which suddenly reminds me..._ Quick decision time then, if certain other business was to be attended to and arrangements made in good time.

A simple nod was all the vampire gave his associate, and turned to follow her through the double doors behind reception, down the overly bright florescent-lit hallway, and through another set of doors, a sign mounted on the wall above it in plain, neat print writing, stating;

'Amity Park General Hospital Morgue'


End file.
